


Hide the Truth

by Krank



Series: Hell Bound [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Humor, Hunting, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krank/pseuds/Krank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>While working a case in Arizona, hunter Harry meets his match in the form of a strong-willed, Irish bartender named Niall.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on themes from Supernatural. 'Loosely' as in Harry is a hunter who hunts demons. And there are some parallels between creatures. The Winchesters will not be making an appearance. Artwork was made by [THIS](http://anarry.tumblr.com/) lovely lady!

  
[](http://s116.photobucket.com/user/_-disenchanted-_/media/tumblr_mqcervDSt11qirmsao1_500.png.html)   


Harry Styles stared out at the barren desert through his dusty windshield as he drove along the freeway. In the distance and to the right he could see a small town, no doubt the very town he was looking for.

He traveled America in his perfectly restored black 1969 Ford Mustang that had belonged to his father. He went from town to town, looking in to paranormal cases or anything remotely suspicious. Harry was a hunter, trained in tracking and killing various supernatural beings including but not limited to: demons, spirits, werewolves, and vampires.

It was a lonely job, and he only got to see his unconventional family once in a while, unconventional because it was comprised of Paul, his primary guardian, and Louis, his adopted brother. That was it. Those were the two rocks in Harry’s life that were always there for him. Together they made a solid hunting team: Paul back at his house giving orders and supplying them with information, and Harry and Louis pounding the asphalt taking out creatures that the rest of the world was too naïve to know about.

Harry had been born in to a family of hunters. When he was little he was in charge of the flask of holy water while he followed his father through woods, church basements, abandoned shacks, and historic landmarks among other places. When he was old enough he was handed a shotgun and taught how to shoot. His mother helped him develop some basic knife skills, and his sister Gemma passed down her knowledge of symbols and rituals, that she had kept neatly recorded in her journal. That was one of his favorite things, and something Harry paid a vast amount of attention to. There was a lot that could be accomplished using some blood, bones and a couple of verses in Latin.

However, of the Styles clan, only Harry remained, carrying on the family business. It was all he knew.

———

Arizona was _disgusting_. Harry climbed out of his car and instantly felt like all the fluids in his body had evaporated. He physically choked on the hot air he inhaled and scrambled for the bottle of water he kept under the front seat. He almost wished he had something other than skinny jeans in his bag, but shorts ‘weren’t a good look for him’ his sister had once told him, and he couldn’t get it out of his head. He’d have to suffer for fashion.

He was in town on a lead that Paul had given him: some sort of creature was attacking and killing people. It was gruesome and sad, but Harry was truly hoping it was something ‘out of the ordinary’ or else Paul deserved a punch in the face for sending him in to the Arizona desert for a simple coyote problem.

Gold Canyon was a quaint little town. There was nothing for miles, the closest city being at least thirty minutes away. People would say that a place like this was an unlikely spot for bad things to happen. Everyone knew each other. The truth was that a small town was exactly the place for something supernatural to go down. It was always the small towns and communities: demons liked to cause a stir. Who would notice anything abnormal in a place like Los Angeles? New York? Crazier things happened in big metropolitans all the time.

No, creatures and demons treated small towns like their personal playgrounds and liked to watch as they fell apart.

Harry’s first stop was the hotel that he’d be staying at while he was in town. It was a bit nicer than he would typically go for. Seedy roadside motels had fewer rules. If he needed to pack up in the middle of the night, there was usually some old nutter still at the front desk. If he got blood on the carpet or sheets they usually never charged his credit card. One time he left an entire devil’s trap painted on the ceiling and he never saw any consequences. However, Gold Canyon had the choice of two places, both quite fancy, so he went for the lesser.

One of the positives of nicer accommodations was the improved Internet connection, not to mention the air conditioning. Harry spent his afternoon pulling up articles about the two tragedies. It seemed the victims weren’t connected in any way, besides living down the street from one another. One, the man, was a welder at a local shop; the woman was an accountant. He also checked the town’s history for any unexplained or violent deaths, but there was nothing. The town had an otherwise spotless record.

By late afternoon he had done all he could to prolong his return to the scorching outdoors. He decided to search out some food, realizing how hungry he’d become. It was what he had done since he was little: get so consumed by something that he simply forgot to eat. Whether it be video games, or learning exorcisms, he was able to lose himself quite easily. Paul liked to joke that there was only room for one thing at a time in his small brain.

Harry ended up at the Red Sage Restaurant & Pub. It was busy for a Monday night, but luckily there was a bar so he didn’t have to sit alone at a table surrounded by families and couples. He tended to avoid large crowds as best he could.

“What’ll it be?”

Harry looked up from his menu at the strong Irish brogue that sounded somewhere in front of him. His eyes landed on a man around his age leaning on the other side of the bar, with blond hair and a black Red Sage t-shirt on. His eyes were an uncommon shade of blue. Harry’s initial impression was that he was absolutely adorable.

“Well you’re certainly a long way from home, Irish,” Harry grinned, turning on his charm.

The man grinned back, revealing straight white teeth. “I could say the same for you. We don’t usually get travelers from across the pond in this town.”

“I’m a freelance writer. I’m doing a story for a travel magazine about the hidden gems in America. Found this place on my way to California.” Lying had become second nature to Harry. He’d grown up with his father being plenty of things: a police officer, FBI agent, a writer, actor, talent agent – anything to get him through locked doors. Harry had adapted and started conjuring up his own lies. It had become too easy.

“Really? I can’t say Gold Canyon is much of a gem. The golf resort is probably its only redeemable feature. It’s the only thing that makes this town any money,” the blond replied, wiping the counter in front of him with a cloth.

“Golf Resort?” Harry stared. “Who in their right mind would stand out in that heat playing _golf_?”

The stranger threw his head back and laughed. It was a glorious noise, and Harry took the opportunity to observe the column of his neck and his protruding Adam’s apple. There was something about the bartender that was absolutely radiant.

“How are you liking it here so far?” The young man asked when he had calmed down.

Harry smirked and leaned his elbows on the counter, blatantly checking him out. “Well, the scenery isn’t bad.”

The blond rolled his eyes, groaning. “Honestly, that was terrible.”

Harry shrugged, shot down, but otherwise undeterred. “Was worth a shot.”

“Is there anything I can get for you tonight?” The bartender asked again, fiddling with the beer taps beside him.

“Give me whatever’s good - and a beer. I’d like some good beer.”

The lad scoffed, strolling over to the touch-screen computer at the end of the counter. “It’s tough finding good beer around here, I can tell you that much.”

“You’re just biased. And I forget – what did you tell me your name was again?” Harry fished, a coy smile on his face.

The blond glanced at him from the corner of his eye, returning his own cheeky grin. “I didn’t.”

Harry sat at the bar until closing time, making idle conversation and ordering too many appetizers and just enough beer that he could still make the short journey in his car to the hotel a block away. The stranger was intriguing, and really didn’t give away very much about himself, besides the fact that he didn’t make much in tips and by then Harry had had three beers in him and gladly emptied his pockets to help the lad out.

He ended up playing the most elaborate game of hard-to-get that he’d ever encountered. He didn’t have a huge ego, but it wasn’t usually that hard to snag someone’s interest. Harry was tall and handsome, and had a purposeful rugged look about him. It usually worked well in reeling the boys in. However, his blue-eyed companion held his own, matching his wit and turning down his casual advances. He’d laugh off his attempts at flirting, which left Harry a bit perplexed. Every time the blond shot him down, though, Harry’s desire only grew.

By the time he stumbled out the door, he still hadn’t managed to earn a name for his mysterious conversation partner, and he was roughly a hundred dollars poorer. He fell asleep in his clothes on his hotel bed, thinking about his beautiful stranger.

———

Despite his enjoyable evening, Harry awoke the next morning in a terrible mood. He could sense the metaphorical dark cloud hanging over his head as he checked the date on his phone just to make sure. Sure enough, the date on his calendar was the one he dreaded every year.

Though he’d rather stay in bed, Harry rose and got himself dressed, getting his mind focused on his case as best he could.

His initial half-assed investigation in Gold Canyon was going about as good as it usually did within the first twenty-four hours: he wasn’t any closer to finding and getting rid of whatever was attacking people, and another person had fallen victim to it the night before while he had been trying to charm the pants off of a cute boy, which had been a complete failure in the end anyways.

He was stood outside the crime scene, dressed in his black suit and tie. He pulled at his collar, the sweat already trickling down his neck. It was only nine in the morning and it was already pushing ninety degrees. The sooner he could get out of Arizona, the better. He’d head north next. Perhaps Canada. He didn’t care if Paul had a case for him or not, he’d find one.

Harry took a deep breath and marched up to the police tape, lifting it and ducking under. He wore his best Blue Steel and marched past the other officers milling around. They were on him almost immediately.

“Excuse me, you aren’t allowed to be in here-“

Harry stuck his hand in his jacket and pulled out a thin leather sleeve, flipping it open and flashing his expertly crafted fake F.B.I. badge and I.D. “Special Agent Sheeran.” Harry spoke in a well-trained American accent.

Harry had many aliases. Some of them were completely random, some of them were celebrity names – which really got some questioning looks – and then some of them were personal. Edward Sheeran had been a friend of Harry’s growing up. His family hunted, and so they would sometimes stay at Harry’s family’s house when they were passing through.

The Styles house had been considered a safe house. His mother hardly ever went out on the road. She would stay home with him when he was too young to do much but get in the way. Even after he grew up and started going on hunts, she would stay home and act as a research tool and a hostess to any fellow hunters in need of a place to stay. He remembered some of the people that came through his house. Some of them were older men who worked alone. They would sit in the living room and teach Harry how to dismantle and clean every kind of gun in existence and tell him stories from the road.

Some hunters were couples that traveled together. He could tell his mother liked it when women would come to stay. Men always surrounded her, and so it seemed to be a bit of a relief for her to have another female in the house for even a day. They would cook meals together and share tips, chat about ideas and things. Harry never paid much attention because women were quite boring.

Then there was Ed. Also from Harry’s homeland, he was pale and freckly with bright orange hair. He used to tell Harry how he would get teased whenever his family stayed in one spot long enough for him to attend school. Eventually Ed grew up, and Ed became handsome. He picked up guitar and would play whenever he could, with a soft voice that Harry grew to love. He would confide in Harry, telling him how he didn’t like the life he had. He wanted to go to college, pursue music – but hunting was all he knew, and all he would ever know. His family would never forgive him if he left, and to Ed his family meant everything, even more than his music did.

Ed died taking out a nest of vamps down in Texas. Harry hoped that he had given it all he had, but he had a feeling that maybe his mate had just surrendered; maybe Ed had let them kill him. Harry was glad that they hadn’t turned him, because he knew he would have had to be the one to hunt Ed down and kill him himself, and Harry would never have been able to.

And thus, in his friend’s honor, Harry got Paul to fabricate him a new badge. Ed had always wanted to impersonate an FBI agent, but his father said he was a shit liar.

Back at the crime scene, the officer was giving Harry a once-over, eyebrow raised. “They called in the feds for this?”

“Yes _they_ did. Feel free to call the boss, but it’s your funeral,” he growled, hardly having to play up a short temper with how he was feeling. The officers backed off immediately, and Harry marched on; desperately hoping the house was cooler than outside.

To Harry’s relief, it _was_ cooler, though it also reeked of the metallic stench of blood. He grimaced.

He was welcomed by who he assumed was the chief of police. “Welcome aboard, agent. Hopefully we can get to the bottom of this before anything else happens.”

“Is this one similar to the other two cases?” Harry asked, stepping around the large spot of blood on the carpet in the living room.

“It’s a similar MO, but this one in particular is different,” the chief wrote some notes on his small pad of paper.

“Oh?” Harry pressed, eyes sweeping the room for anything of interest. The house was small and comfortable, with plush furniture and happy pictures on the walls.

The chief placed his hands on his hips. “Yeah, this one happened indoors.”

Harry barely refrained from slapping his head out of his own stupidity. _Obviously_ it had happened indoors. That small fact changed things astronomically. The first attack had been on a mountain trail, and the next had been in a parking lot late at night, which both could be explained as a mauling by a wild animal. However, with the most recent victim found in his own home, Harry knew for certain that whatever was killing the residents of Gold Canyon was no animal.

His next stop, unfortunately enough, was the morgue. Harry always hated the morgue. Once in a while a case would land him in a white room with a corpse on a slab. He wasn’t particularly squeamish, but it would definitely put him off his dinner.

“You look awfully young to be an FBI agent,” the coroner commented, unlatching the door to the temperature controlled cold chamber and sliding out a body draped in a pristine white sheet. Harry swallowed hard.

“I take care of myself. Eat all my vegetables and that,” he pulled at his collar again. Although the room was in the basement and kept relatively cool, Harry was sweating.

The coroner uncovered the body. It was a younger man, maybe thirty years old. He had a neat ‘Y’ stitched in to his skin from his autopsy that traveled all the way down his torso to his abdomen. His skin was powdery and pale.

“Just like the other two victims, his body was completely healthy and all of his organs were intact. The only wound was at the back of his head. A bit odd for an animal, if you ask me.” The older man scratched his forehead. “I’ve seen animal attacks before and these recent cases just don’t add up. They’re too specific.”

Harry searched his mental filing cabinet, sorting through random facts and legends, looking for something useful.

“Is there anything missing from the brain?” Harry asked calmly, holding his breath as he leaned in to examine the body more closely.

“Excuse me?” The medical examiner asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is the brain fully intact or is there, you know, _a piece missing_?” Harry breathed out the last part, turning his gaze on the old man. His internal documents were almost all sorted, and one in particular was standing tall and clear in his mind.

“Odd that you would ask that, because yes: there was a particular part of the brain that was removed from all three victims. In a normal mauling, there would be damage to the brain tissue and maybe some matter ejected during the attack, but it seems that a large portion of the brain is simply gone in these three cases. Like it was purposely removed.” The graying man tilted the head of the cadaver slightly, showing the gaping hole at the base of the dead man’s neck. Harry quickly looked away.

“Is the pituitary gland still there?”

The coroner frowned, taking a step back and looking Harry up and down. “I’m sorry, can I see that badge again?”

“Is the pituitary gland still attached to the brain or is it gone?” Harry repeated more firmly, the volume of his voice rising. In return, the man stared at him, stubbornly pursing his lips together.

When it seemed like Harry wasn’t going to get any further, he gingerly removed his borrowed apron and gloves, tossing them aside and heading towards the door. Just as he was about to duck out, though, he got his answer:

“The pituitary gland is gone.”

Harry jogged from the small building over to his baby, sliding in behind the wheel and quite literally spinning out of the parking lot. He turned on some loud music to repel the dead silence still ringing in his ears as he attempted to shake off the feeling of death that was lingering on his skin.

Despite his appetite being ruined for the foreseeable future, he had gained a solid lead on what he was hunting. There was only one creature in particular that went for a specific part of the brain: a Kitsune. They were a creature of legend, mostly, though Harry knew that they did in fact exist. They tended to keep a low profile, moving from town to town in order to remain off the radar of hunters like him. In order to sustain themselves, they relied on the pituitary glands of humans. Without them, they would get sick and die. Kitsune usually presented themselves in the form of humans, though their movements tended to be more swift and graceful like that of a fox, and they had long retractable claws. They were also _very_ strong.

The Kitsune lurking in Gold Canyon had slipped up taking so many victims in such a short period of time. It was being reckless. Fortunately, being reckless made it easier for Harry to hunt.

He shed his suit and turned on the shower when he got back to his hotel room. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, trying to rid himself of the stench of formaldehyde.

When he was clean and air-drying on the bed, he took out his phone and rang one of the only people that would know anything about a Kitsune. Gemma’s journal lacked any detail on the creatures because of their apparent rarity.

_“You’ve got to stab it in the heart.”_

“Wait - that’s it?”

 _“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”_ Paul’s thick Irish accent crackled through Harry’s cell phone. Another thing that Gold Canyon lacked was decent cell service.

“Well, I figured there would be a little more to it than that, considering how uncommon they are.” Harry argued, leafing through the room service menu.

_“Not everything needs magical hoodoo to kill it, Styles. Besides, good luck even getting close enough to a Kitsune to stab it in the heart. Nasty creatures.”_

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

_“You’ve got your father’s thick skull, but I’m serious. Kitsune are dangerous. I think you should give Louis a call, you can take this one out together.”_

“I’m not calling Lou. I’m not going to pull him away from the lead he has going in Iowa. I can do this myself,” Harry snapped.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry knew that Paul was building up to something big. He took a deep breath, preparing for an onslaught.

_“You’re a little moody today, boy.”_

Harry huffed. “I’m perfectly normal, Paul.”

_“You know… It’s seven years today since your-“_

“I know perfectly well what anniversary it is!” Harry cut him off, voice raised. “I’m aware of these things, you know. I was there, remember?”

Paul immediately backed off. _“Alright. I’m just saying if you need some time, maybe take the night off from working this case, take a nap, do some of that girly yoga I caught you doing when you were seventeen. Try and manage your anger better. You can deny it all you want, but you are shit at controlling your emotions. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”_

Harry didn’t reply, so Paul continued. _“And after you’re done down there, come home. You haven’t been round in a while… Yeah? Can I get an answer out of you, or are you sulking?”_

“Yes.” Harry mumbled, feeling every bit the moody teenager he was all those years ago, standing in Paul’s kitchen just days after losing his family.

_“’Yes’ what?”_

Harry sighed. “Yes, sir.”

When Paul finally hung up, Harry decided he needed a drink.

———

The Red Sage was quiet for it being dinnertime. Harry flopped gracelessly down on to a bar stool, effectively startling the blond haired boy who had his back turned while he re-arranged the glassware on the wall behind the counter. He spun around, hand over his heart. When his eyes landed on Harry, he grinned.

“I figured you’d be long gone by now,” he said, drumming his fingers on the wooden countertop.

“Well I’m glad to see you too,” Harry shot sarcastically, snatching a menu from the pile.

The blonds’ face soured. “Bit touchy today, are we?” He asked defensively.

Harry exhaled, setting his menu down. He needed to try and stop being a raging bitch. “Sorry. Long day.”

“It must be such a struggle sitting in front of a computer finding new ways to describe scenery,” the bartender teased, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to roll his eyes.

When Blue Eyes asked him what he wanted to order, Harry struggled to answer him. The after-effects of the morgue were still hanging over him, though if he didn’t order something, he’d look creepy sitting at the bar by himself. He had chosen the Red Sage because in the back of his mind he had hoped that the blond would be there again, and since he was, Harry wanted to stay as long as possible.

He ended up ordering nachos and beer. He was more interested in the beer.

When Harry failed to make stimulating conversation, his new acquaintance went back to work, a noticeable frown on his face. Harry wanted it to be like the night before, when he had him laughing and rosy-cheeked, however the cloud that had been hanging over him since he woke up was still present, weighing on his mind. He knew that Paul was right. He knew he had to face it eventually, but he didn’t want to.

“A shame to hear about all of these deaths, mm?” Harry tried casually, though he cringed after the words left his mouth. Not exactly a strong opener.

The blond looked up from his computer screen, eyebrows raised. “Sorry?”

Harry cleared his throat. “The animal attacks. One just happened last night, you know. Freaky,” Harry continued, gauging for the boy’s reaction. He just shrugged and kept typing away on the touch screen.

“It’s a shame, yeah. But this is the desert. There are things living out there that shouldn’t be messed with. You put yourself out there and you have to deal with the consequences.”

Harry stared back at him, a bit perplexed. “I didn’t peg you for the cynical type.”

“I’m just a realist,” the young man was quick to defend himself. “It’s a cruel world, animal kingdom included.”

Harry rested his elbows on the bar as he saw his new friend in a completely different light. Harry had managed to catch a glimpse at another layer, a darker layer. He desperately wanted to know what had turned such a beautiful soul so bitter.

Harry thought it best to steer the conversation in another direction.

“Have you noticed anyone new in town lately?” He tried again. If you wanted to know the goings on of a small town, always ask the bartender.

The blond again looked at him a bit oddly, finishing up his work on the computer and making his way back over to him. He leaned on the bar, putting himself in to Harry’s personal space. Harry couldn’t say he minded.

“Any new strangers, you ask? What, you mean like you?” The blond teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Besides me. Anyone that stands out?”

“Why do you ask? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Is that a yes?” Harry pushed.

“I don’t know… There are new people who roll in once in a while. I talk to a lot of strangers in this restaurant. Some people use this town as a getaway; people who are going through a midlife crisis, or people who are trying to get away from bad things… This is a small town that no one really gives a shit about and people like the idea of that. But as for specific people, I couldn’t really tell you. You’ll have to find them yourself.”

Harry nodded, finally finishing off his first beer. He tried to hide his cringe as he downed the rest of the drink, which had warmed to room temperature at that point.

“Another beer?” The bartender asked.

“No, actually,” Harry cleared his throat. “Do you have any whiskey?”

The blond whistled. “You mean business tonight.” He disappeared behind the counter and Harry could hear the clinking of bottles as he rifled through a cupboard. He returned with a bottle of single malt. “Chasing away some demons this evening?”

Harry chuckled humorlessly at the irony in that statement. “You could say that.” He threw back his shot and gestured for another, feeling it go down quite smoothly.

After pouring him a second one, the blond leaned on the bar again, staring at him intently. “Alright then, spill. What’s eating at you tonight?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry shrugged, swirling the amber liquid in the small shot glass.

“Oh, come on. There must be something! You were so annoyingly confident and charming last night, what happened?” The blond kept his teasing tone.

Harry tossed back his shot and slammed his glass on to the counter a little more forcefully than he had intended, causing the boy across from him to jump. “It’s, uh… It’s been seven years today since my family was murdered.”

The words triggered a feeling similar to what lead might feel like if it were liquid and pumping through his veins. He watched as the Irishmen’s face fell.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I… I shouldn’t have pried.”

“How were you to know?” Harry replied, gesturing for another shot. Instead, the blond grabbed the bottle and tucked it back under the counter out of sight. He proceeded to fill a glass with water and set it down in front of the brunette.

“I don’t think you want to go down that road tonight.”

“Well aren’t you just a saint,” Harry shot sarcastically, resting his head on his folded arms.

“I’m not a saint, I’m a bartender. I may not know much, but I know alcohol, and it’s hardly ever a good remedy.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes. “I know, but it sure is fun to try.”

Harry stayed late at the restaurant, the conversation between him and his companion a bit stunted, the blond purposely giving him some space. He mostly spent his time watching the boy work, which he knew was extremely creepy. Harry could hardly find it in himself to care.

Every year it was the same. When Harry woke up the next morning, he’d do it with a clear head and a renewed focus. He only allowed himself one day to feel any sadness or self-pity, and then it was time to move on. He hadn’t told many people about his tragic life, because he didn’t want or need the instant pity or coddling. But with the bartender, it was different. It was almost comforting knowing that the blond knew a little bit more about him. Harry had lied to him about everything else, except his family. It was the first time he’d been honest with any stranger in the towns he visited.

Near eleven, the blond reappeared in front of him, cleaning cloth in hand.

“We’re, ah, closing soon… Unfortunately you have to go,” the boy said quietly. He still looked terribly guilty.

Harry nodded and stiffly slid off of his barstool, stretching out the kinks in his body from staying hunched over for too long. He fished some bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the counter. “Would you… would you like a ride home?” He asked.

The blond looked up, surprise clearly written on his face. “What?”

Harry shrugged casually. “You know, I could give you a lift home.”

“Who says I don’t have my own vehicle?”

Harry felt a grin tug on his lips. “Just a hunch,” he replied.

He could feel the atmosphere around them relax as the bartender smirked. “Well, you’re right. I walk home most nights, and I’m perfectly capable of doing that tonight as well, thanks.”

“You are just an independent woman, aren’t you?” Harry teased, relieved that their banter was back. “Won’t take help from anyone. With all of the wild animal attacks, you’d think you’d be scrambling for a lift home.”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Right, so I’ll just get in to a strangers car and be completely at his mercy. I think I’ll take my chances with the wildlife.”

Harry sighed. “I am going to be sitting out in my car when you get off shift. You can turn me down then.” With that, Harry headed towards the door, an actual bounce in his step. “I’ll see you in a few, Irish!”

“ _Niall_!” The guy called back.

Harry turned around. “Pardon?”

“Niall. My name is Niall.” The bartender avoided his eyes, looking positively bashful.

It was when Harry was seated behind the wheel of his car, tapping out the rhythm to a Rolling Stones song and waiting for Niall to get off shift that he finally asked himself what he was doing. Somewhere along the way he’d lost focus on what he was in Gold Canyon to do. Niall was a guy just like any other guy in any other town Harry had visited, only not nearly as easy.

Harry hadn’t done much dating in his lifetime. Being a hunter didn’t allow time for it. Once in a while he would roll in to a town and happen upon a hook-up, but it never lasted longer than a night. How could it? Harry was a drifter. No one could know what he did for a living besides fellow hunters, and there was a distinct lack of queers in the business.

In any other situation, Harry would have moved on as soon as someone turned him down. But Niall had excited him, ignited a spark inside of him that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Harry was already swimming in dangerous waters with his persistence. Whatever game Harry was unknowingly playing, he needed to stop before anyone got hurt.

As if to prove a point, his police scanner went off, interrupting his internal argument. There had been another _animal_ attack, and two people were dead.

Harry took one last look at the restaurant and fired up the engine, making a split decision to abandon his plans. He had a case to take care of, and there was no time for menial flirtations. First and foremost, Harry had a job to do.

———

The fourth crime scene was in the same neighborhood as the previous ones. Harry was certain he had blown his cover at the morgue earlier that day, so he kept his distance. There wasn’t much to get from the scene, anyways, besides witnessing two more dead bodies and having the awful stench of blood ingrained in his memory for the foreseeable future.

Instead, Harry pulled out a map of the area that he’d snagged from his hotel and pinpointed all of the crime scenes. It formed a sort of circle around one road in particular, and when Harry drove to investigate it, he noticed an abandoned service station, a prime location for an unwanted guest to hide out. Inside he could see movement.

He knew he had his target pinned.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do that night, being completely unprepared, Harry headed back to his hotel. However, as he drove, he passed a lone figure walking along the side of the road. _Niall_. As much as Harry wanted to ignore him like he knew he should, he simply couldn’t.

He did an illegal u-turn and rolled up behind him, flashing his high beams. The blond boy kept walking, paying him no mind, so Harry rolled down his window and stuck his head out. “Want a ride?”

“Not from you!” The boy yelled back, still not turning around.

“I’m sorry! I got called away. I didn’t mean to let you down,” Harry apologized profusely, inching the Mustang along the shoulder of the road, matching Niall’s pace.

“That’s alright. I really didn’t expect much from _you_ ,” Niall finally turned and continued walking backwards, squinting in to the headlights, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“That cuts me deep,” Harry said in mock pain. “Now would you please get in the car? My baby doesn’t like going this slow and I’m afraid you’ll be carried off by a pterodactyl at any moment.” He saw a glimmer of a smile on the blonde boy’s face and knew that he had won.

Harry quickly shoved his gun under his seat and tossed his sister’s journal in the back as Niall slid in to his passenger seat. His new companion took a moment to look around the interior of the vehicle: the immaculate dashboard, original leather seats, and Harry’s mum’s rosary beads hanging from the rear view mirror.

“Nice wheels.”

“I call her Dusty.”

“Really?”

“No.”

As Harry took off down the road again, he kept glancing over at the young man riding shotgun in his car. He was  quiet, playing with his fingers in his lap.

Niall was _pretty_. He looked every bit the boy he was with the snapback he had popped on his head after his shift had ended. His beige trousers were baggy, and he wore obnoxiously white Supras on his feet. But above all of that, he also had a pretty face, with a pretty mouth and pretty eyes and pretty blonde hair-

“Is there something wrong with you?”

Harry was pulled from his observation by Niall’s voice. “Sorry?”

“You keep staring at me like you’ve never seen another human before. It isn’t winning you any points,” Niall explained.

Harry smirked. “Why didn’t you tell me I was playing for points? I would try a little harder.”

Even in the dark car, Harry could tell that Niall was pink-cheeked and flustered. He decided to keep going. “I just don’t think my passenger seats’ ever looked this good before.”

Niall just snorted like he always did when Harry tried too hard. “You’re some charmer.”

“Glad you noticed.”

Harry took the few offered directions and pulled up in front of a small house with stucco siding. It was in a quaint neighborhood with similar houses lining the street. It looked safe. It looked like _home_.

Niall didn’t immediately get out of the car. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly, turning to look Harry in the eye. “I’m sorry about prying in to your personal life tonight… And I’m sorry about your family, and-“

“It’s alright, Niall,” Harry interrupted. He liked the sound of the boys name on his tongue. “Life is unfair sometimes. I feel like you might know a thing or two about that, am I right?”

Harry watched Niall’s eyes grow wide, and the blond quickly looked away from him and in to his lap. He nodded slowly. “More than you know, actually.”

“See?” Harry said. “We’re just the unfortunate ones. But we’re both alive, and we’re both extremely good-looking, so at least things didn’t turn out too awful, right?”

It took a quick second for Niall to process what Harry had said before he burst in to laughter. He continued to cackle as he reached for the door handle.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Harry asked as Niall gathered his backpack and crawled out of the car. When he was out he shut the door and leaned in the window.

“I’ve been living alone for over a year, I think I can manage,” he mused.

“You know, I could give you my cell number just in case you need anything-“

“Goodnight, Harry.” Niall gave the roof two small taps and began his journey up the concrete walkway to his house.

Harry sighed and shook his head at the retreating figure. “You know a ‘thank you’ would have been nice, you git!”

Niall made a hand gesture over his shoulder and Harry huffed, though he waited until the boy was safely inside with the front light off before he pulled away.

Instead of finishing off the anniversary of his family’s death the way he usually did, reliving it all in his mind as he lay in bed wishing for sleep to claim him, Harry’s thoughts were filled with something much brighter; a light like a beacon for his soul, guiding him towards a boy with pretty blue eyes.

———

With nothing better to do, Harry slept in the next day, and spent the rest of the daylight preparing himself for his take down.

As night fell over Gold Canyon, Harry found himself ducking behind an old ice cream cooler in the abandoned service station he’d found the night before. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being the frogs and crickets nearby. He was armed with his usual weaponry: knife in the boot, knife in the belt, and his best knife inside the sleeve of his leather jacket. It was terribly uncomfortable and hot, but the leather gave him a little extra protection. He’d picked it up somewhere in Maine years before while he was passing through, and ever since it had gotten him through a lot. It was as reliable as his car.

Harry hoped that what he was about to do didn’t go long enough to have need for the other two knives on his person. Best to get it over with quickly.

He heard a noise outside and tensed, holding his breath as a shadow appeared in the doorway. It stepped through the empty frame of the door that had once held glass, and Harry could see that it was a woman. She was petite, with dark hair tied up behind her head. Her movements were graceful, like he expected. He was almost entranced by the way she carried herself; so delicate and quiet.

“You’d have a better view if you weren’t crouched behind a cooler.”

Harry took a sharp intake of breath as an airy voice rang out in the dingy room. He steadied himself, not liking having been caught off guard, and rose to his feet, stepping out from his hiding spot. It was true: from this angle he could see her more clearly, and it was eerie how well she had adapted in to her human form. The only part that betrayed her was her eyes; they were still fox-like and calculating. “I swear you hunters get more and more attractive every time I’m fortunate enough to see one of you.” She smiled.

“Oh, thank you,” Harry joked dryly, the scowl never leaving his face. “But I wouldn’t call this encounter ‘fortunate’ for you. I’m going to kill you. Your kind is no good to me.”

The Kitsune laughed, and it was like little bells tinkling in the air. “You can try, dear hunter, but I’m afraid you’re going to lose this one.”

“Oh and I’ll just end up like that couple last night, then?” Harry growled, circling the shorter girl.

“What?” Her face scrunched up. “What couple?”

“Save it, you have far too much blood on your hands, not to mention all the people you’ve killed since you were a child. You can’t survive without our pituitary glands, so don’t even pretend that you are remotely innocent of anything,” Harry hissed, still circling the creature.

“Oh and humans are any better? There are so many more of you and you kill each other every day, not to mention all of the animals that you feast on regularly. What makes you any better than me?”

That’s when Harry released the knife from inside his sleeve and lunged, aiming straight for the heart. She, in turn, revealed her claws and bared her teeth, moving from the path of his knife and striking him in the side. Harry lost his grip on the bone handle of his blade as he scrambled to put pressure on the fresh wounds on his body. Her claws had gone right through his jacket, though luckily it only felt like a surface scratch.

The Kitsune grabbed him by the arm, and with astronomical strength flung him across the room. The counter of the small service station broke his fall. Harry struggled up in to a sitting position, his shoulder throbbing.

When his eyes finally focused he saw her marching toward him. He bent his leg up slowly so that his foot was near his right hand. As she leaned in and fisted the collar of his jacket, he made a quick grab for the knife in his boot and thrust it upward in to her chest all in one go. She released him and staggered back, eyes falling to the offending object protruding from her. She looked back at him, and he could see the pain and sadness in her eyes.

He buried the body in the back of the lot, the grave rather shallow. Burning it wouldn’t have worked; the smell of burning flesh would have carried around the town and attracted attention. He took a moment when he was done to reflect.

He hardly ever got any satisfaction from killing creatures. Demons were another story because they were conniving, evil things, but monsters… Harry usually ended up feeling more sorry for them than anything, and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because they had very little free will. A Kitsune, for example, was created to feast on the brains of humans. If they didn’t, they would die. There was no choice, no other option. They were simply trying to survive, though unfortunately had the wrong diet and it was Harry’s job to put an end to it.

He made sure he had all of his knives and headed back to the hotel, ready for a hot shower. He left Paul a message telling him that it was over and that he would be rolling out the following morning. Later, when he was sprawled on his bed, he thought of what he would be leaving behind when he left. He quickly made himself presentable and headed out.

The Red Sage Restaurant was getting ready to close when Harry strolled in, oozing confidence as usual, even if some of it was a front. The girls on staff recognized him and smiled, glancing towards the bar where, as usual, Niall was stood.

“Do you _ever_ have a day off?” Harry asked as he took his regular stool.

Niall looked up, a little startled. “I do, actually. Tomorrow.”

“Well lucky you.” Harry looked around, seeing that there was only staff left in the room, and they were all cleaning.

“Kitchen’s closed, I’m afraid.” Niall crouched down to rearrange one of the cupboards below the bar.

“Oh, I’m alright. I’m just here to drive you home!” Harry smirked.

Niall rolled his eyes. “How thoughtful. Unfortunately, it’s my turn to do weekly inventory and receive our shipment tonight, so I’ll be here for a while.“

Harry frowned as his plans were foiled. Making up his mind quickly, he made Niall an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Fancy a bit of company?”

———

A pair of gloves was slapped in to Harry’s open palm. “Ready for some heavy lifting?” Niall asked, opening up the kitchen’s back door for the deliveryman. There was a big, loud transport truck backed up to the entrance filled with boxes and bags of vegetables.

“Well this is romantic,” Harry mumbled. Niall snorted beside him.

They made quick work of the stock, with the help of the driver. Large boxes of potatoes, lettuce, onions, lemons… canned goods, place mats, napkins, salt, pepper… Harry never realized things were available in such large quantities. He could definitely use the twenty pounds of salt.

When the driver left and Niall locked up, they turned to the pantry and began organizing it. They worked quietly and efficiently, the silence between them comfortable.

As Harry worked, he held a debate inside his head. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, or even expected from Niall. They barely knew each other, really, but Harry couldn’t help but want to be around him, even if they _were_ doing manual labor in the back of a restaurant.

It came to Harry as he watched Niall chew the end of his pen, attention focused on a clipboard. There was something about Niall that made Harry feel like he was _home_ , and that scared him.

Niall must have sensed Harry’s eyes on him, because he looked up from his paperwork. Instead of diverting his attention, though, Harry held his gaze.

Niall smiled and Harry could feel it radiate through his chest.

Hours later, it seemed, Harry was sat on the bar in the main restaurant as Niall took inventory of the alcohol. He was eating chips that one of the staff members had left in the staff room.

“So how is that travel article coming?” Niall asked; head stuck in a cupboard.

Harry cleared his throat. “Oh you know, it’s coming.”

“What kind of places have you been to already? Seen anything cool?”

“You’re unnaturally chatty tonight,” Harry countered, trying desperately to change the subject.

Niall stood and wiped his hands on a tea towel. “I’m stuck making do with whatever company I can get. Now answer the question.”

Harry stopped to think. He had seen some pretty awesome places in the country, but it was always brief. He had seen the statue of liberty one time from across the river while he was in New Jersey on a case. He remembered being in Niagara Falls once when he was five, and his father was hunting a Wendigo. It was shortly after their family had moved to the states, and they were traveling in a trailer, having yet to purchase a house. His mother had taken him to keep him occupied. He remembers crying when the boat went under the falls.

Just the year before he’d spent a week in New Orleans with Louis on a vamp case. They didn’t get to spend much time relaxing, but nights in the French Quarter were something special. The atmosphere there was intoxicating, and so joyous. Him and Lou, two chaps from the U.K, fit in like they had grown up down there. The locals were so friendly… If Harry ever got the opportunity to go back, he would.

“I’ve… I’ve seen a few things, though nothing too miraculous. It’s a nice country,” Harry shrugged and continued eating.

Niall scoffed. “Congratulation on the most vague answer ever.” He crouched down to root through another cupboard under the bar.

“Sorry. I’m not all that interesting, I’m afraid.” Harry apologized, wiping his hands on his black jeans. He quietly observed Niall while he worked, admiring the lean muscle in his arms and the concentrated frown on his face. “So what brought you all the way to the States, then, Irish? And _Arizona_ , of all places.”

Niall stopped what he was doing and stood up, wiping his hands again. “Would you be disappointed if I said ‘love’?”

“Are you serious?” Harry was taken aback. Niall presented himself as such an independent person that it was hard to believe he’d be pulled in by the lure of romance.

“Yeah… Thought I was in love. I guess we’re all struck by cupid’s arrow at some point or another, right? Sorry, it’s silly.”

Harry nodded, briefly wondering if he’d finally gotten his turn with the sneaky cherub. “It’s not silly at all. Is he - He’s not still around is he?” Harry asked cautiously. Niall had said he lived alone, but anything was possible.

Niall chuckled. “God, no. He’s been gone for over a year. He came here to start his own business, and I was too foolish to see the warning signs blinking right in front of me. I was completely invested in him.” Niall leaned back on the counter behind him.

“He said he moved us here because it was a nice ‘safe’ town, whatever that means. I still don’t know what his business was, but he was gone a lot. He’d leave for weeks at a time, and I never had the courage to ask him where he went. He was quiet, liked to keep to himself.

“So I would sit here, going to work every day and waiting for him to come home. He’d wire me money and I’d make sure our bills were paid. It sounds ridiculous but one week he just never came home.” Niall’s voice dropped. “It stretched in to two weeks, then three. I called and called, but eventually his phone was shut off. I filed a missing persons report, but nothing ever came from it. He’d gotten bored, or he found someone else, and he left me.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry swallowed hard. That was how Niall had been hurt, let down by someone he loved. It was no wonder he kept himself so guarded, not so easily falling for Harry’s charms. He’d been betrayed. Abandoned. Harry knew the feeling.

Niall shook his head, standing up straight. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Something changed for him, I guess. I just wish I could see him one last time so I could punch him in the face.”

Harry nodded. “Why didn’t you go home after that happened? Hop the first plane out of here?”

“I was stuck here. I could barely afford rent on the house with just my income, let alone the thousands of dollars it would take to get my shit together and get my ass back to Ireland. Not only did the bastard disappear off the face of the earth, but he left me high and dry in the middle of the bloody desert.” Niall’s Irish accent had become thicker as his anger rose. “I’m not sure if a punch in the face would be enough, to be completely honest. He should be _castrated_!”

“Easy there, tiger,” Harry soothed, putting his hands up in front of him. Niall’s cheeks were red, his lips pursed. “Anything else you want to get off of your chest?”

Niall realized what he had been doing and let out a deep breath, looking at his feet. “No, that’s it.”

“Good. I like you better when you’re happy.” Harry was rewarded with a smile. “That’s better. Now enough with all of this sad talk, how about you pour us a drink?” Harry rubbed his hands together, eyeing the taps.

“The restaurant is closed so the computers are off. I can’t charge you for a beer,” Niall replied.

“Who said anything about charging?” Harry frowned.

“We’re not helping ourselves to the restaurant’s booze, Harry,” Niall argued.

“Come on, mate! It’s a keg, they would hardly notice a glass or two missing, now would they?”

“Go fuck yourself, I’m not stealing from this place. They’ve been nothing but good to me, I’m not ripping them off like that.” Niall stared at him, looking entirely unimpressed.

“Does that halo on top of your head ever get itchy?” Harry mocked, hopping down off of the bar and stretching his muscles. Niall flipped him off. “You’d better find me some beer, then. I need payment for my hard labor tonight.”

Niall grumbled something about a ‘princess’ and proceeded to clean up his mess, tucking his inventory sheets in a drawer and closing up the bar cupboards. “I have beer at my house, your highness.”

“Why thank you, trusty steed.”

“Did you just call me a _horse_?”

———

Harry wasn’t surprised at all by Niall’s sparsely furnished home when the blond let them both in. It was very plain, but also very cozy, with over stuffed couches and chairs. The walls were painted warm colors, and there were a couple photos on display, mostly of Niall and his family and friends back home. There was an acoustic guitar on a stand in the corner of the living room, and a large flat screen television on the wall. It was very much a bachelor pad.

Niall handed him a beer and proceeded to lead the way through the living room and out on to a small partly-finished deck attached to the back of the house. There were no patio chairs, forcing them to sit on the edge of it, legs dangling towards the ground.

Harry looked up at the sky, reveling in how clear the stars were. He loved when he ended up in a town small enough that you could see the night sky. Some cities were so lit up that the stars were practically invisible save for the really bright ones. Gold Canyon was tiny enough that the world around them was truly allowed to shine.

“What are you thinking about?” Niall asked, tracing patterns in the condensation on his beer bottle.

“Nothing,” Harry replied lazily, eyes still on the sky. He wondered where Louis was at that very moment. He really ought to call him…

“You’re telling me that _you_ of all people are actually quiet tonight?” Niall teased.

Harry scoffed. “Shut it. I’m allowed to reflect once in a while.” He drank a mouthful of beer and proceeded to lie back on the wooden deck. Niall observed him for a moment before following him down, lying beside him.

“I don’t do this very often,” Niall spoke up at the sky.

“What, you mean you don’t meet men at the restaurant and casually lure them back to your house with the promise of alcohol?” Harry gibed.

“Oh, come on, you were hardly ‘lured’ here. You practically invited yourself!” Niall argued, giving Harry a shove. “But really, though. I wake up, go to work, come home and find something to eat… Then I go to bed again and start my routine all over again. I go out sometimes with my co-workers, but it’s been this way ever since I moved here. Even when he was still around he was gone most of the time. I got used to being alone. And it sucks.”

“I understand how that feels,” Harry said softly. “And that’s why I’m kind of glad I met you.”

“You barely know me,” Niall replied.

“No, but I feel as if I should.” Harry said slowly. “You’re so easy to be around. Your spirit is so bright, and yet you know what it’s like to feel lost. You understand what it’s like to be lonely. We’ve both lost people in our lives, and I hardly ever come across someone who knows what that’s like and understands that you hold that grief in your heart for a long time.”

Niall was silent and Harry continued, the words coming naturally. “When I first saw you at the bar, I wanted to woo you. And you know how hard I tried.” Harry turned his head and saw Niall nod in agreement, a grin on his face. “But now… I just want to know you. I want to know everything about you. And that doesn’t happen very often. I’ll be honest, I never let myself get close enough to want to know more.”

Niall rolled on to his side, propping his head in his hand. He looked down at Harry, an eyebrow raised. “So you don’t want to ‘ _woo’_ me anymore, then?”

Harry looked up at him. “I have more respect for you now. You should be pleased.”

“What if I don’t want your respect?”

Harry felt a tingle run down his spine at Niall’s words. His eyes fell to Niall’s lips, slightly parted as he breathed. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry leaned in, cupping Niall’s cheek in his hand and pressing their lips together.

Before Harry could stop himself, he had Niall pinned underneath him on the wooden deck. His heart was hammering in his chest, and all of the blood in his body shot south as he felt the pull of human contact after months without it.

Niall was in a similar state beneath him, hands fisted in his t-shirt keeping them pressed together. Harry left the blonds’ lips and traveled to his neck, nipping and sucking an angry red mark on his skin. In response Niall thrust his hips up against him, emitting a sound deep in his throat that went straight to Harry’s groin.

“I’m not drunk enough for this to happen,” Harry breathed.

“What?” Niall asked, knotting his fingers in his curls.

Harry forced them apart for a moment, resting his forehead against Niall’s. He kept his eyes closed. “A couple more drinks and I could blame this all on the alcohol and be alright with it, but this… This is one hundred percent me and I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Does it feel wrong?” Niall asked earnestly, tracing Harry’s bottom lip with his thumb. When the brunette shook his head, Niall took that as a green light and pulled him in again.

Harry’s body was responding with fervor. It had been _a while_ since he’d been that close to someone, let alone someone he had developed fast feelings for. He cared for Niall, probably more than he should. It had been the chase that had first gotten him pulled in. Niall hadn’t been easy to win over, and Harry had treated him like a challenge. He’d shamelessly flirted his way to victory, and now that he had won his prize, he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Harry _wanted_ Niall more than anything at that moment, however the circumstances were all wrong. He couldn’t take from Niall when he knew that he couldn’t then give back. Their time together was ticking away and someone like Niall, who had been hurt in the past, needed more. He needed more of a commitment, someone to be there for him. Harry didn’t want to be one of the things that Niall would regret when he looked back.

Because of that, he pulled away just as Niall’s fingers snuck under the hem of his t-shirt.

“What is it?” Niall breathed.

Harry took a deep breath. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

Silence fell between them, the only sound being their ragged breathing. Niall then knocked their foreheads together, a wicked smile on his face. “Well then we best hurry this along, then, eh?” He said cheekily, again trying to get his fingers under Harry’s shirt.

Harry sat up, knocking his hands away. “No. I can’t do this.”

The Irishmen frowned, propping himself up on his elbows. “I don’t understand.“

“I don’t want to do this with you and then just up and leave and never see you again.”

“It was my impression that this was how you did things. You know, roll in to a town and pick up,” Niall attempted to pull Harry down again.

Harry shook his head. “Not with you. You deserve better.”

Harry felt the atmosphere die instantly. Niall unceremoniously shoved him off and stood up, distancing himself from Harry. The brunette reluctantly followed him to his feet, as uncomfortable as it was given how constricting his trousers were. Niall wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“How would you know what I do and don’t deserve?” He mumbled.

“Niall-“

“No, really, Harry. Please explain to me why this isn’t right and how I deserve more? Because I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m trapped in the middle of the fucking desert and to be honest there aren’t a whole lot of potential prospects waltzing around here. Is it me? Do you not like me? Because if that’s so, you are terrible at acting like it.” Niall’s tone was sharp. “You flirt with me right from the start, tell me about what happened to you, make me open up about what happened in my own life, and then you decide that that’s it? That I’m apparently too good for you or something?”

“Just listen!” Harry snapped, a little frustrated. “I’ll be gone in the morning and that isn’t fair to you. I really care about you, and it’s going to hurt you more than you think if we do this and then I leave.”

He saw the tension melt away from Niall. His shoulders sagged, and he visibly deflated. “You’re leaving for good, then?”

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged. “I’m always on the move, you know, for work.”

Niall sighed. “For being Irish, I seem to have the worst luck.”

Harry smiled sadly. He approached the blond and wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him tightly. He breathed in his scent, a mixture of boyish shampoo and aftershave.

“God, it’s just been so _long_ ,” Niall whined, nuzzling his neck. “And you’re so attractive. I wanted to climb you like a tree.”

Harry laughed, rubbing Niall’s back in comfort. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this to you,” He mumbled in to his hair, rocking them slowly.

The man in Harry’s arms shook his head. “Don’t be. You livened the place up. And you can always come back and visit, right?”

Niall didn’t see the strained smile on Harry’s face. “Of course I can.”

Somehow they _both_ knew that wasn’t true.

———

With a heavy heart Harry pulled out on to the road that would take him back to his hotel. He had just enough time to catch a quick nap before it was back to his full-time job. Despite telling Harry that he wanted him round the house for a visit, Paul had sent him an address in the next state over, telling him there was a potential case. No rest for the wicked, it seemed.

Just as Harry was reaching to turn the radio on, however, something caught his eye in the glow of his headlights.

There was a person lying on the side of the road.

He quickly pulled over and jumped out of the car, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He knelt down next to the man, who appeared to be unconscious. “Hey, you alright?” Harry asked, placing a hand on his chest. He leant down closer to the man’s face in order to check if he was breathing.

All at once vulpine eyes snapped open and a strong hand latched on to the neck of Harry’s t-shirt. He was thrown backwards, skidding to a stop on the gravel a few feet away. He scrambled to his feet and raced towards his car, needing to get in to the trunk. The keys were still in the ignition so he grabbed them, though the headlights died with the engine, covering the area in darkness. As he struggled with his key ring, he looked up to see that the figure on the ground had completely disappeared. He tried to put it out of his mind and focus on getting inside of his trunk, all the while feeling a presence lurking somewhere behind him.

He grabbed the first knife he could find and whipped around, just in time for sharp claws to rip across his chest. He cried out, blinding pain shooting through his body, his vision darkening around the edges. He felt the knife being knocked from his hands as he fell to his knees at the feet of his predator.

“You’re a Kitsune,” he hissed, curling in on himself. His shirt was fast becoming soaked with blood.

There was a dark chuckle above him. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

Suddenly it all made sense; back in the service station earlier that night when the girl was confused over the ‘couple’ Harry had mentioned. Of course it hadn’t been her who attacked them. Even being a Kitsune she was far too small to take on a grown man and woman at the same time without one of them at least calling for help or getting away. No, it was the creature that Harry was currently kneeling before that had done it. Why there were two of them in the same small town was beyond him, though. That was more rare than anything he could imagine.

“I had no idea who you even _were_ until you gutted my girl tonight.”

Ah, so they were _together_.

“T-that’s my job,” Harry replied, unable to maintain a level voice. “You kill people, I kill you.”

Another sinister laugh, “You’re doing a fine job now, boy.” A heavy boot came forward and struck Harry in the head, sending him sideways and causing his temple to connect sharply with the chrome bumper of his car. His vision swam again as he lay on the ground. So far the odds were _not_ in his favor.

“Do you realize how many of you hunters I’ve killed? Taking you out is no smear on my record. And while I’m at it, I might just help myself to that pretty brain of yours,” the kitsune hissed. “Or how about I pay a little visit to your boyfriend? I bet he tastes good.”

Harry inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, that’s right. You think I didn’t follow you after watching you burry one of my own tonight? I know exactly where your boy toy is, hunter.”

Harry pulled his body along the gravel, biting his lip to stop from screaming as rocks dug in to his open wounds. He could also feel the warm trickle of blood making it’s way down his face from the gash in his head. He knew it was no good, but he had to try getting away and staying alive. In the meantime, he refused to play the kitsune’s game and respond to his taunts, though he couldn’t help the horrible images plaguing his mind of Niall being attacked in his home as he was getting ready for bed.

Like the fox that he was, the creature above him was watching his feeble attempt at self-preservation. _Playing with his food_ , Harry thought pathetically. Just as his body was surrendering to the pain, he caught sight of his blade shining from underneath the right back tire of his car.

He stretched his arm out in front of him, reaching as best he could for his weapon. He could feel the monster getting closer, and then a powerful hand came down on his back, forcing him farther down in to the gravel. Harry screamed.

“Any last words, you filthy little human?” He felt warm breath on the back of his neck.

“Say hello to your _girl_ for me!” Harry grabbed the handle of his knife and rolled his body, plunging the steel blade up to the hilt in to the chest of his attacker. The Kitsune stumbled backward, gargling on his own blood. He fell heavily to the ground, eyes wide and unseeing.

Harry let his body go limp again, breath labored from the exertion. He gazed up at the stars, still as bright as they were at Niall’s house and equally as beautiful. The claw marks on his chest still felt as if they were on fire, making the rest of his body tremble. He was losing a lot of blood.

Ever so slowly retrieving his knife from the corpse of the creature next to him, Harry used his car to pull himself to his feet. He fought the urge to be sick as he rolled the Kitsune’s body in to the ditch, knowing he was unable to do much else to dispose of it given the state he was in.

He practically fell in to his front seat, taking a moment to catch his breath. The clinic in the town wasn’t open at night, and the nearest medical center was twenty minutes up the freeway, and he didn’t have insurance to begin with. He was dangerously low on options. After a quick debate, he fired up the engine and spun in to a u-turn, heading back in the direction he had come from.

———

Harry reached a bloody hand out and pressed the doorbell a couple times, his other arm wrapped around his torso. He supported himself on the doorframe, trying to think about anything other than the pain he was feeling. The porch light above him flickered on, and Harry felt relief knowing that Niall was still awake.

“It’s too late, you know. You’ve missed your chance to get with this,” he heard Niall’s teasing voice call through the door. Harry forced a laugh.

The door opened, revealing Niall in plaid sleep pants with a white t-shirt clinging to his wiry frame. He looked terribly inviting. The blond stared at him, looking rather unimpressed until he saw the strained look on Harry’s face. His eyes then traveled downward and took in his shredded, blood-soaked shirt. All of the color drained from Niall’s face.

“H-Harry…” His mouth opened and closed, but no more words came out.

“S-sorry to bother you. Just need a little help.” Harry’s knees suddenly gave out, causing him to pitch forward. Niall dove and caught him, sinking to the floor with him.

“Oh God, Harry…” Niall whispered, unable to stop looking at the gaping wounds on his chest. “What happened? Harry, what do I do?” His voice wavered, and Harry felt little droplets of tears splash on to his face. “These… these are claw marks. You were _attacked_ -“

“Sshh,” the brunette shushed, eyes slipping closed. “It’s alright.”

“Harry you’re fucking bleeding! How is this alright?” Niall sobbed.

“I need you to focus, Niall. I need you to f-focus and help me.” Harry reached up and touched the blonds’ wet cheek with his fingertips, frowning when his own blood smeared against the soft skin.

“What I need is to get you to a hospital!”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “No hospitals. Do you think you could get me s-some things? I need warm water, rubbing alcohol, a couple of washcloths, and s-something to wrap myself with. You’ll have to help me with this one.”

“What do you mean? I can’t. I don’t know how!” Niall hiccupped, voice bordering on hysterical.

“If you can mix some of the sissy drinks you mix, you can clean a few scratches.”

“A few _scratches_? Harry these are-“

“ _Now_ , Niall!” Harry raised his voice, effectively snapping the Irishman in to action.

Niall set about collecting the things that Harry had asked for, and Harry struggled to move himself up against the wall of the foyer. He leaned his head back, focusing on his breathing. When Niall returned, even armed with scissors to cut off his soiled t-shirt, Harry guided him through the steps of cleaning the cuts and wrapping them properly. This wasn’t his first battle wound, to say the least.

“You’re lucky I’m a bit accident prone or I wouldn’t even have half of these things in the house,” Niall muttered; voice a bit steadier. He dabbed an alcohol-soaked cloth on to the largest opening. Harry hissed. “Sorry.”

“You’re certainly not a medical professional, but I guess you’ll do,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Always one for the humor. You show up bloody on my doorstep and then think you can joke with me? Once you’re better I am going to give you a right punch to the face.”

“Deal.”

Niall continued to work and Harry continued to fight off the little pull telling him he should just rest his eyes for a minute. To be helpful, Niall would give him a little tap every time he saw Harry’s eyelids drooping.

Harry knew that real stitches were probably needed, but he didn’t want to do it himself and he wasn’t about to force Niall to sew him up. Instead, they used medical tape to hold the wounds closed under the bandages. He’d only had real stitches once as a child, and he vowed never to have them again

Once his wounds had been cleaned and taped sufficiently, he instructed Niall to wrap thick white bandages around his upper body, which was difficult given that Harry couldn’t exactly move. At one point when Niall leaned in to pass the roll of gauze from one hand to the other, Harry pecked him on the forehead. A shadow of a smile graced Niall’s lips, and Harry felt a bit of relief. The boy was wound so tightly Harry worried he might snap.

“Can you walk?” Niall asked quietly when he had finished. Harry groaned.

“Why don’t we give it a try?”

The journey to the couch was a slow one, with Harry fully relying on Niall to support most of his weight. He stretched out on the cushions, taking deep breaths as his body was jarred. When Harry was settled, Niall sank down on to the edge of the cushions beside him. The blond stared at him quietly as if he were afraid to speak. Harry noticed that he was trembling, and that he kept looking at the bandages wrapped around Harry’s torso.

Niall’s white shirt was stained with blood, making for an eerie picture.

“Niall,” Harry mumbled, reaching out and taking his hand.

Niall didn’t say a word.

“Talk to me. Say something.” Harry stroked the back of his hand, hoping to comfort him in some way.

“What is there to say? I don’t… I don’t know what I could say that would help you at all.” Niall’s voice cracked.

Harry looked at him with sympathy. “You’ve done a lot for me tonight, Niall. You saved my life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-“

“I could be bleeding on the side of a road right now, but I knew I could come to you for help.” Harry soothed, linking their bloody fingers together.

“You scared me.” Niall bit his lip, more tears welling in his eyes.

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Harry reached up carefully and brought Niall’s head towards him, kissing him softly on the temple. “Go clean up. Have a hot shower, get your head straight.”

“But I don’t want to leave you,” Niall argued.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Despite Harry’s protests, Niall made himself a bed of pillows and blankets on the floor beside the couch and settled in for the night once he had washed Harry’s blood off of him. Harry fell asleep quickly, and was immediately plagued by dreams of fox-like eyes and sharp claws.

———

Harry awoke at dawn, unable to sleep with the sunlight shining in his face from the patio door. He took a deep breath in, the skin on his chest feeling tight underneath his bandages.

He turned his body as best he could, looking towards the floor to see Niall still sleeping soundly. His face looked troubled even as he slept, with worry lines marring his forehead. Harry felt guilty. He’d put Niall through more than he ever should have. He got him involved in his fucked up life when he should have kept him as far away as possible.

Barely a moment later, Harry’s internal battle was interrupted by his bladder, which alerted him to the fact that he needed to find a washroom. _Fast._

He managed to make it to his feet without waking Niall, which was a massive accomplishment. He steadied himself against various pieces of furniture and walls, wincing as pain ripped through him. With the way he felt, he knew it would be a long time until he was fully healed.

When Harry was finished he took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. His skin looked sickly, sheen of sweat covering his body. The bandages stood stark against his chest, and Harry could see a few spots of blood that had soaked through during the night. He looked like hell, if he was honest.

A sharp knock on the door startled him. “ _Harry_?” Niall’s worried voice called.

Harry reached over and opened it, revealing a sleepy looking Niall with his arms wrapped around himself. He looked Harry up and down, taking notice of the bloody bandages.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had to wee.”

“You should have woken me up! You shouldn’t be up and moving around!” Niall said sternly, and Harry thought his grumpy face was quite precious.

“I’m not porcelain, Niall. But if you’d like, you could help me back to the couch.” Harry held out an arm and Niall ducked under it, supporting Harry as they made their way back to the living room.

When Harry was safely back in a horizontal position, Niall grabbed a blanket and covered him up, then placed a pillow under his head. He didn’t speak as he did it, or look Harry in the eye.

“I’ll make breakfast-“

“Wait!” Harry called, grabbing Niall by the wrist as he turned to head towards the kitchen. Niall glanced back at him, and Harry could finally see the war going on in his mind. “Sit for a minute.”

“I’ll be back, I just want to-“

“ _Sit_.” Harry tugged on Niall’s hand and the blond collapsed on to the couch beside him. “You’re still upset from last night. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

Niall took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s alright, really. I’ll get over it.” He attempted a weak chuckle.

“No you won’t. Not for a while, anyways.” Harry rubbed Niall’s back slowly.

“It’s just… It caught me off guard, and it made me realize…“ Niall exhaled. “It made me realize how much a cared about you, seeing you like that.”

Harry sighed. “Niall-

“No, listen! Since I met you I thought you were cute, and charming… and I definitely wanted to do terrible things to you last night, but when you showed up at my door, and you were hurt… It just sort of hit me. I was so scared of losing you.”

Harry listened as Niall poured his heart out to him. He knew that the two of them were in far too deep to ever come back to the surface. He’d let himself fall for Niall, and in the process he’d drug Niall down with him. Things wouldn’t end well for them, not with the life that Harry had. It was dangerous for Niall to be mixed up with him, and Harry could only keep his lie going for so long while he recovered before he’d need to break away and leave Niall behind to protect him. The blond would be abandoned again, and it would be all Harry’s fault.

He should have known better.

“I’ll only stay until I can get around better, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Harry pulled his blanket up to his chin.

Niall frowned. “Harry, don’t be an idiot. You’re not going anywhere.”

Niall got up and busied himself in the kitchen making them breakfast as Harry relaxed in to the couch cushions.

The more he thought about it, in some sick way Harry was relieved at what had transpired the night before. It was a twisted sort of gift that he had been injured. Perhaps some force had wanted him to stay in Gold Canyon, if he even believed in that sort of thing. He may have a series of foot-long scars on his chest as a result, but it had granted him time… time that he had wanted so badly.

Harry grabbed his cell phone, which was somehow still wedged in to his pocket after all that had happened, and dialed a familiar number.

“Hey Paul,” Harry croaked rather pathetically after the beep of the answering machine. He cleared his throat, though he kept his voice low so Niall wouldn’t hear. “Um, so something sort of came up. A minor snag, you could say. Things were solved, but the aftermath is pretty bad. I… I’m going to be staying in Gold Canyon for a little longer than I thought.”

Harry watched as Niall banged around some pots and pans in the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting in to the living room.

“I’ll call you back later when you might be awake ‘cause I don’t want to say too much in a message. I’m okay, though, and someone is looking after me, so don’t worry. And don’t roll your eyes because I _know_ you worry.”

He ended the call and chucked the device on to the floor. Niall arrived with their breakfast shortly after, helping Harry to sit up so he could eat.

“You know,” Harry began around a mouthful of toast. “I’m not really one for role-playing, but I could get used to this whole nurse/patient thing.” He grinned, nudging Niall in the leg with his foot. 

Niall groaned in response. “Just eat your breakfast.”


End file.
